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Hannibal Pays the Dreadnoks a Visit
Log Title: Hannibal Pays the Dreadnoks a Visit Characters: Hannibal, Zandar, Zartan Location: Florida Date: November 23, 2012 Summary: Hannibal Pays the Dreadnoks a Visit in Florida Category:2012 Category:Logs As logged by Hannibal - Friday, November 23, 2012, 10:07 PM Southeast United States - North America Like the Northeastern US, this area extends from the Mississippi to the Atlantic and encompasses a variety of states, including those states most commonly associated with the Old South. Once considered a backward region, the South has indeed risen again to become an area of culture and industry. ;Contents: * Hannibal * Zandar * Zartan *Hannibal :Hannibal is a perfect specimen of masculine physical beauty; handsome, rugged, and strong, with striking Mediterranean features. His face is deeply tanned, and framed with black hair that hangs free to his shoulders. He wears a leather jacket over a black T-shirt and jeans, completing his outfit with steel-toed boots. The look in his eye signifies wisdom beyond his appearently-young years, and he looks attractive, charismatic, and dangerous. Hannibal rides his motorcycle through the ruins of post-flood Florida, seeking out the few people known to be tough enough to still live there: The Dreadnoks. Out in the Okeefenokee Swamp, where flooding is nothing, there's a little Dreadnok hideout. Zartan his sitting on a chair on the veranda of a medium sized shack on the high ground, leaning back on the chair's two back legs, his hands behind his head as he relaxes. Hannibal roars in on his hog, hair in the wind, being not-at-all sneaky about his approach. He is dressed in all black, with leather jacket, chaps, and boots. Zandar is tying down one of the Swamp Skiers as his brother sits relaxing in his domain. He tightens his jaw against the near-snarl at him. Hannibal drives in on one of the relatively-smooth stretches of roadway in the area, carefully avoiding the various traps and pitfalls without appearing to even try. Zartan puts his chair in the full upright position as he hears the approach. "Hm," he says, "Could be one Ripper or Torch." He plays closer attention to the sound until the bike comes into view. Hannibal roars in through the night, the lights of his bike off, but his engine echoing out over the marsh until it is absorbed by the swamp. There are very few outsiders that negotiate the swamp, so when the motorcycle can be heard in the distance- and drawing rapidly closer, he hisses, "It's not Ripper!" The sounds were the same day in, day out, so when an outsider appeared, it stood out, "You've got company, brother!" Then Zandar is gone, leaving it appear Zartan is the only one. Zartan snorts and stands, then melds with the shadows until he can see who it is that approaches. Hannibal continues his beeline for the Dreadnoks' shack. He pulls up in front of the shack, in view tho not TOO close, and stops the bike. Hannibal calls out from his now-quiet bike. "Hello!" He sounds confident and friendly. From the darkness, Zandar aims his rifle. He peers into the dark... and knows that confident stride and voice. But he keeps his weapon trained right on him. He watches, without saying a word. Hannibal calls out, "It's Hannibal! Mind if I come up?" Zandar says nothing. It isn't his place. He looks toward Zartan. Hannibal stays on his bike, approaching no further without Zartan's say-so. He's bold, not rude. Zandar watches Hannibal. He fits the part of a biker better than the Dreadnoks themselves, exceptionally so. He waits, along with Hannibal, for Zartan to address him. Zartan appears from the Shadows momentarily. "OH, it's you," Zartan says almost cynically, "What do you want?" Zandar mutters to Zartan, "... -very- attractive..." : Zandar says, "oh geez. way to go mutter ;p" : Zartan says, "hehe" : Hannibal LOL : Zandar says, "I could kill mutter right about now lol" Hannibal commands, "I'm here to discuss things between our two camps. I figured someone's sent word, but I felt a more personal touch might be helpful." Zandar watches as his brother's silence continues. What is that arrogant ass doing? He's next to his brother but still camoflauged. If Hannibal heard Zandar's comment, he doesn't react. Zandar continues watching the man astride his bike. He cut quite a brazen figure in the dark, from toe to head all in black. He smiled. A worthy Dreadnok, to be certain. A moment more, then Zandar speaks, "Zartan is master of his domain. Hannibal," he says, quietly, "You deal with him.... when and if he decides you're worth the visit." It was honest, and Zartan was going to leave the three of them outside in the dark. Hannibal commands, "Fair enough. And how may I prove myself worthy of Zartan?" Zandar says nonchalantly, but still has his rifle aimed at Hannibal. As intriguing as their visitor was, he was an intruder on the family land. "Discuss what, exactly?" Zartan wonders, then whispers to Zandar, "Don't worry, brother. If he double-crosses us, he'll be the one feeding the alligators." Hannibal says, "Well, the role of the Dreadnoks as our allies in an ever-changing world." Zartan grins. "It's a simple formula, really. You pay us. We work for you. How difficult is that?" Hannibal smiles back. "Not difficult at all, and that's not going to change." "Then what is there to discuss?" Zartan wonders, quirking a brow. Hannibal commands, "Well, with Cobra's emergence as a legitimate world power, with a greater focus in Central Asia, we will need the Dreadnoks more than ever when a show of force is necessary... and of your family in particular when we have needs of a more delicate nature. I'm just here to make sure you know that your assistance is as valued as ever, and hasn't been overlooked." Zandar frowns. Overlooked? The gift of diamonds was overlooked. HE was overlooked. He said nothing once again. "Indeed," Zartan says, "Thank you for the message, then." He looks over at Zandar. Hannibal says, "You're quite welcome. Your actions are always appreciated and noted, even when not immediately acknowledged." Hannibal may or may not have glanced in Zandar's direction during that last line; it's hard to say. He starts his motorcycle again, and calls out over the motor, "Should you have any need of us in return, feel free to call on me at any time." Motorcycle leathers or not, Hannibal seems to treat Zartan more like an allied king than a gang leader or assassin. With a nod of his head, Hannibal revs the bike and prepares to take off. Zartan nods back at Hannibal. "I will," he says, then he goes to sit back in his chair. "And just how long were you going to let him stand there?" Zandar rasps in his brother's direction. Hannibal flashes a winning smile, and guns the bike, burning rubber in a half-circle until he is facing the other way, and then roaring back out of the swamp, back the way he came.